Night Terrors
by Berry's Ambitions
Summary: [Drabble] The king's disgruntled assisant awakens to the surprise of his life. [Dedede/Escargoon]


**_Night Terrors_**

**_By Berry's Ambitions_**

**A/N: First _Kirby: Right Back At Ya! _fic in years! And for my favourite pairing to boot. It's pretty straightforward, but that's what I was going for anyway. Happy reading! :)**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own _Kirby._**

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Even if Escargoon hadn't been a light sleeper as it was, he's certain that he still would have been roused into consciousness.

Really, _anyone_ in his predicament would have been.

But it isn't as if the intruder cares either way; Escargoon knows this all too well, even if it hadn't been for the obnoxiously heavy breathing.

He pretends not to notice.

He figures it's best this way. Kicking him out of bed would do more harm than good, and Escargoon doubts he has the strength to do so anyway.

The thing is, Escargoon doesn't really care. He supposes he should, but really the snail can't be bothered by nuisances like this anymore.

Instead, he allows himself to marvel at the fact that the surly, arrogant king has decided to climb into his bed in the middle of the bed. That he's turned to _him_ of all people for... dare Escargoon say comfort? He isn't sure, but what other explanation could there be?

_Sleepwalking?_ With the king, you could never rule anything out, after all.

It's been half an hour since the disturbance and Escargoon is still wide awake. Perhaps because he's hesitant to arrange himself into a more comfortable position in fear of evoking the wrath of his boss.

_Is he even asleep at all?_

Escargoon comes to the conclusion that yes, this predicament does bother him. Is it possible that the king has caught on to his scheme? That this is sort of twisted vengeance?

Nah, one would have to be_ smart_ in order to pull that off.

The mattress lets out a loud creak as it dips downwards. The intruder is sitting up now, confirming Escargoon's suspicions. He has the vague notion that he's being stared at now. _Heaven knows why... it's not as if I'm doing anything interesting right now..._

It takes every bit of willpower Escargoon has not to flinch as a hand rests atop his shell.

He fights back a wince as he braces himself for the inevitable blow.

Until it occurs that him, of course, that no blow is coming after all. And the strange thing is... Escargoon finds this concept more unsettling than actually _being_ struck.

"You ain't really asleep, are ya?"

Dedede - thank the stars - has retracted his hand now. Escargoon lets out an angry huff as he rolls over, glaring at the other male. "What gave you the first clue, sire?"

Dedede's scowl is response enough.

Escargoon purses his lips in annoyance, resting his head on the pillow and closing his eyes - more so to get Dedede off his back than a legitimate attempt to sleep.

He tries to ignore the sense of security that Dedede's warmth gives him, chalking it down to a mild case of Stockholm syndrome. (Escargoon disregards the fact he's here willingly, no matter how much he abhors it at times.)

Dedede's breathing is quiet and steady now; listening to it, Escargoon finds himself in an unusual state of peace - and, for first time since the penguin sneaked into his room, he begins to feel the tell-tale pull of sleep. _It has nothing to do with King Dedede,_ he tells himself sternly, eyelids feeling heavier with each passing second. _Nothing at all._

Escargoon's always been a horrible liar.

But before he passes out completely, something happens. Something so unexpected that Escargoon's eyes shoot open before he's finished processing it.

A pair of arms wrap around his middle, cozier than the comforter that's draped over the two of them, and pull Escargoon close. There's none of the typical aggression or force behind the gesture, however; that's the truly jarring aspect of it.

"Don't know what I'd do if you weren't here."

Dedede's statement is a murmured one, born of drowsiness and a clouded mind. Escargoon knows that the chances that the penguin will remember this tomorrow are slim - that Dedede probably has no idea what he's talking about.

Nevertheless, a little jolt shoots through Escargoon, heat flooding his cheeks. _The term 'warm fuzzies' comes to mind,_ he muses, smiling faintly as he relaxes against the other male.

Neither stir for the rest of the night.

**~The End~**

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**A/N: So, how was that? Did I do Escargoon and Triple-D justice? Either way, I plan on writing more for them in the future, assuming I still have the time and inspiration. I've recently started watching the series again and am now on episode 17, I think? I'm on March break right now so I'm hoping to get at least halfway through it. Escargoon has been my favourite character since I was little, so I'm hoping he'll get a fair amount of screen-time. :)**

**Like I said earlier - hopefully I didn't screw up the characterization too much. I certainly tried my best, lol. Anyway, feel free to drop a review and lemme know what you think!**


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